


Like a Grain of Sand

by Kienova



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e11 Aftershocks, F/M, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 03:23:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13941531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kienova/pseuds/Kienova
Summary: He was barely back to his bunk, having left Jemma on the plane, when her hand grabbed his door, preventing him from closing it until she slipped into his room with him.“Jemma –”“Trip is dead, Fitz, he’s gone,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. He could see the traces of tears in her eyes, but none fell. He knew, immediately, that she was trying to bottle it up. Hide her mourning behind the walls he had watched her erect after their stint at the bottom of the ocean. He wanted to yell at her, to scream that she needed to show some emotion. Wanted to tell her to cry for Trip because it seemed as if she couldn’t shed a single tear for anyone else. He wanted to cry himself. To dissolve into the sobs he knew were lurking beneath his ribs, caught between his chest and his head like all the words he struggled to get out.





	Like a Grain of Sand

**Author's Note:**

> From the following prompt on tumblr: Smut prompt. Post 2x10 comfort. Maybe a reluctant Fitz thinking she just wants him because Trip is gone and her reassuring him?

He was barely back to his bunk, having left Jemma on the plane, when her hand grabbed his door, preventing him from closing it until she slipped into his room with him.

“Jemma –”

“Trip is dead, Fitz, he’s gone,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. He could see the traces of tears in her eyes, but none fell. He knew, immediately, that she was trying to bottle it up. Hide her mourning behind the walls he had watched her erect after their stint at the bottom of the ocean. He wanted to yell at her, to scream that she needed to show some emotion. Wanted to tell her to cry for Trip because it seemed as if she couldn’t shed a single tear for anyone else. He wanted to cry himself. To dissolve into the sobs he knew were lurking beneath his ribs, caught between his chest and his head like all the words he struggled to get out.

He couldn’t fully comprehend it. That mere days ago they had all been fine. That they hadn’t been underground in a temple that would tear a dear friend away from them. Trip’s things were still in his room. His clothes still in the laundry. Video games still in the common room, mixed in with Mack’s.

“He’ll never really be gone though,” Fitz managed, trying to offer the platitude he so often heard in relation to death. That the deceased would always be there in spirit and in the memories of those who were left behind.

He wanted to believe that maybe, somehow, it had been a ruse. That Trip would come waltzing through the door, laughing at all of them for being fooled. That maybe Skye had been wrong and he hadn’t disintegrated before her eyes. That Jemma’s tests, too, had been false. Jemma laughed, the sound hollow in the room as she looked up at the ceiling.

“No, in some ways, I suppose you’re right,” she muttered, chest heaving as she sighed. Just like on the plane he couldn’t help his compulsion, his hand moving until it was settled on her shoulder. Her own fingers laced over his, clenching tight, keeping him against her. He wanted her to cry, damnit. Wanted her to weep so that he could do the same. So that he could let his heartache out, both for Trip’s loss and the feeling that the woman in front of him would never look at him the same as she had before they had joined the stupid flying circus that was Coulson’s team.

He didn’t mean to move his hand, the appendage sliding around her back until he could pull her into a hug. Jemma didn’t react other than her hand falling to her side, neither pulling away nor burrowing closer like she would have months before. Before he ruined the best thing in his life by a stupid half-assed love confession at the bottom of the ocean because he thought it would be his only time to say it. To tell her how much she really meant to him. It had been selfish, throwing such words on her when he thought he was about to die. But he so desperately had wanted her to know how much she meant to him. How much she still means.

He let out a shuddering breath and suddenly she was grappling at him, arms banding around his shoulders as she tugged him close.

“Jemma –” he started, only to be cut off when she surged forward, kissing him. Her lips were soft and gentle, yet demanding at the same time, moving over his with a clumsy rush. He grabbed her arms, pushing her back, heart hammering in his chest. “We can’t,” he said beseechingly, searching her face and finally, finally seeing tears crest over her lashes. “Jemma, you don’t want this.”

“Yes I do,” she shot back, trying to move into him again, growling softly in the back of her throat when he stopped her.

“You don’t want _me_ , Jemma.” He said the words with a finality, causing a sob to tear out of her. She yanked herself free of his grasp, wrapping her arms around herself as she started pacing, not bothering to attempt to stop her weeping.

“Fitz –”

“I know… I know that you were friends with Trip. That… that you had feelings for him –”

“I have feelings for you!” Jemma screamed, gasping for breath the second the words left her mouth, eyes wide at her volume and the force which she had thrown the words across the room at him. “It could have easily been you or I that was lost down in those tunnels. We almost died, Fitz, and I am sick of fighting and not talking and pretending that being with you isn’t _exactly_ want I want. That it is _all_ I want. Because it is, Fitz. I want you. All of you. Please, let me show you.” His knees gave out at her words, a mirror of his own confession from ninety feet below the surface. He couldn’t help but sink down onto the bed as he started up at her, completely aghast.

Tears were falling down her cheeks, her eyes glassy in the dim light of his room. She appeared more vulnerable in that moment than he had ever seen her – her hands shaking as she waited for him to speak.

“Oh,” he said, unable to find the words he wanted. Jemma let out another sob, clenching her eyes shut, taking his response as rejection.

“I’m sorry, I should –” she gulped, motioning for the door. She turned, barely moving before Fitz closed his hand around her wrist, fingers trembling as he held her steady.

“Come here,” he murmured, surprised that his voice sounded confident despite how his heart was pounding beneath his ribs. He felt the tendons in her wrist shift as she moved towards him, opening her eyes as he gently tugged her arm. With only a second of hesitation, she climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs before wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as she struggled to calm her breathing. “Promise me this is what you want. That it isn’t just the grief talking.”

“I promise,” she whispered, pulling back to look him directly in the eye. “I… I l-love you,” she stammered, voice as shaky as his had become. “You… I could have lost you again.” She crumpled as the words left her, Fitz’s hand coming up to cup her cheek, drawing her into a chaste, watery kiss.

“I’m right here,” he murmured against her lips, brushing her tears away with his thumb. “I’m right here.” Her kisses took on a fervor at the words, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she cradled his head in her hands, rising up just slightly on her knees to change the angle. Fitz couldn’t help the moan that rattled out of him, the hand that wasn’t on her cheek gripping her waist, slowly tugging the hem of her blouse from her waistband before letting his fingers explore the warm skin of her back. When they broke apart Jemma rested her forehead against his, her breathing coming in shallow pants.

Carefully, Fitz took her hand from his neck, guiding it down until he could rest it over his heart, letting her feel his thundering pulse. He felt a tear hit his cheek before she pecked him on the lips again, fingers stroking in small circles above his heart.

“I want you to make love to me,” she said, voice quiet. He didn’t respond verbally, nuzzling his nose alongside hers before leaving her hand above his heart as he went to undo the buttons on his shirt, surprised at how steady his fingers were. She didn’t wait for him to remove it, her hands delving under the fabric as she felt his skin under her palm. Carefully she let her hand slip lower, feeling the slight definition of his abdominal muscles before her fingers settled on his belt, a breath shuddering out of her.

“We don’t have to-” Fitz began, his words disappearing when Jemma took his fingers and pressed them against her own buttons. Swallowing thickly, he gave a tiny nod, slowly opening her blouse. His fingers were gentle and unhurried, trembling slightly as he let them brush against the swell of her breasts, the skin soft beneath his hands. He kept watching her, her eyes fluttering shut as he gingerly parted the front of her blouse, pushing it down and off her shoulders until it fell to the ground. He bent to kiss her, lips barely using any pressure against her collarbones as he felt her tugging his own button-down and cardigan off.

He moved slowly, so used to Jemma being the one to lead that he didn’t want to rush into anything. Without much preamble, she coaxed his face back up to hers, kissing him with more fervor than the previous time as his hands settled on her hips, now able to trace over the bare skin of her stomach and back. As much as the animalistic part of his mind wanted him to rush, he couldn’t, too busy revelling in the sensation of having Jemma in his lap, her chest and stomach pressed against his own, the only cloth between them the soft material of her bra. He didn’t know what compelled him, but he stroked his hands up her sides, pressing into the skin over her ribs and making her squeal.

“FITZ!” Jemma yelped, a laugh punching out of her at the sensation.

“Yes?” he asked, feigning innocence as he pushed into her side again.

“Stop it! You know I’m ticklish,” she pouted. He leaned forward to draw her into another kiss, leaving her sides to go back to her back, dragging up until he could play with the clasp of her bra. “Take it off,” she breathed. Swallowing hard, he looked at her, searching for any hesitation on her features.

“Are you sure? This… this is a big deal Jemma.”

“I’m sure,” she said, biting her lip as she felt him fumble with the fastening for a moment before he managed to pop it open. He slid the straps down her arms a heartbeat later, breath catching in his throat at the sight of her. She squirmed, feeling the heat of his gaze and the blush that was crawling up her chest at his intense focus. Unable to handle the silence, she pulled him closer before trailing kisses down his jaw and throat. She felt more than heard his rumble of arousal at the sensation before his hand curled around her breast, stroking over her nipple with his thumb.

“God you’re… you’re, uh,” he muttered, clenching his eyes shut as the word escaped him, the hand that wasn’t pressing into her skin circling around his head as he fought to find the term. She didn’t try and help him, instead leaning into his touch and nuzzling against his cheek, rejoicing in the sensation of his slight stubble against her skin. “Beautiful!” he blurted after a moment. “You’re so _beautiful_.” She smiled, pecking him on the lips before she shifted off his lap, laying back against the bed. Unsure what else to do, he lay on his side next to her, eyes roving over her skin. Carefully, Jemma reached over, undoing his belt before moving on to the button and zipper.

It took both her hands to maneuver his trousers open, her fingers sliding up his stomach until she could cup his face in her hands instead of immediately shoving his jeans off. Eyes half-lidded, he kissed her once before dropping his mouth to her breast, slowly sweeping his tongue over her nipple before sucking it gently. Jemma whimpered, feeling as if she was finally where she was supposed to be. The gentle tenderness in which he kissed and licked at her skin making her heart flutter in her chest. She fought back tears at the sensation, overcome with the reality that Fitz knew what she needed more than she did – that he knew she needed to be cared for.

She let her eyes fall closed as he switched from one side to the other, barely noticing how he managed to shove his jeans and pants down and off, his hands finding her remaining clothes a second later, fumbling with the clasp of her belt and the zip on her jeans before dragging them down her legs until she could kick them onto the floor. He crawled over her then, drawing her into a kiss as her hands went to his back, stroking over his spine as she encouraged him between her legs, his hips slowly dropping into the cradle of her thighs.

“I don’t have a- a, uh,” he murmured against her lips, feeling his cheeks heat at the confession.

“Its okay,” she replied, pressing her fingers into his skin as she bent her knees, curling her legs around his back. “We don’t need – and, uh, I don’t want anything between us.” Meeting her eyes, he slid a hand between them, guiding himself inside her slowly. Jemma’s head dropped back against the pillow at the sensation while Fitz groaned, forehead pressed against her shoulder. She wasn’t sure what he was going to be like in bed – if he was going to be frenzied or slow; if he would be shy or passionate. He seemed balanced, however, rocking into her with measured thrusts while kissing at her neck, latching onto the spot on her throat that made her moan, the ache between her legs growing.

“Jemma,” he murmured into her skin, feeling her body start to tighten around him. He moved a little harder at the sensation, pace increasing as she bucked up against him, grinding her hips in tight circles. They exchanged heated kisses, gasps and whimpers passing between them as they started to move more quickly, the bed rocking beneath them. Her orgasm came without proper warning, like a wave cresting over the shore as it rose and then crashed through her, her body trembling as she gasped and clutched at Fitz’s shoulders, feeling him falter in his tempo as too was overcome. He let out a choked cry, finding her eyes in the dim light as he pulsed inside her, arms shaking with exertion as he tried not to collapse on top of her.

When he went to move she couldn’t help but whine in the back of her throat, trying to cling to him until he ended up rolling both of them on their sides, their breath mingling as she kept herself wound around his body.

“Please, just hold me a little longer,” she begged. Fitz felt his heart constrict at the emotion in her voice, hand trembling as he stroked along her spine, letting her cuddle just a little bit closer even as he felt himself slip out of her. She pouted at the sensation but burrowed deeper against his chest. He kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes as he revelled in the feeling of her in his arms. They stayed close together, drifting towards sleep, until Jemma’s phone beeped, lost in the tangle of her trousers on the floor.

“Jem,” Fitz murmured, nudging her. “Did you need to, uh, a-answer that?” She shook her head, kissing his neck.

“I don’t care what it says. I’m right where I want to be.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Come visit me on [Tumblr](http://www.kienova66.tumblr.com) for more of my ridiculous ramblings :)


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